


To Fly With You

by 2space_lesbo1



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, Cute, Dancing of Sorts, Fluff, M/M, Wingfic, Wings, flying together, im soft, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 19:10:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19179616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2space_lesbo1/pseuds/2space_lesbo1
Summary: Aziraphale wants nothing more to fly again. He just doesn't want to alone.





	To Fly With You

**Author's Note:**

> i have literally never written this much fluff for any ship ever. i just love them so much and they're soft and they make me soft??? 
> 
> i love wings and so do they

Aziraphale took note of the weather outside his bookshop on a sunny Sunday afternoon. He had been in the back organizing some of his favorite books when the door had opened, temporarily revealing the perfect weather outside as a regular customer stepped inside. He walks into the main area of his shop, glancing out the windows just before the customer begins speaking to him, his wings suddenly itching to unfurl and to lift him from the ground in that second. He hadn’t flown- or even used his wings- in what must have been two centuries. He had flown from England to France for those crepes he’d nearly been decapitated for, but that was beside the point. 

He finishes helping the customer just as the door opens once more, and a comfortably familiar demon slithers into his shop. He looks to Crowley as his demon saunters to the center of the room, his hardly visible wings also tucked tightly to his back. Aziraphale could tell that Crowley hasn’t flown in sometime, either, and somehow in some way it made him sad to think of this fact.

“Hello, dear,” Aziraphale said in greeting with a small smile. Crowley returns the smile, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his torn pants. “Would you like to purchase a book?” 

Crowley clicks his tongue and shakes his head, peering over the rim of his glasses at Aziraphale. “You know I don't read, Angel,” he points out smoothly, coming to lean on one of the bookshelves. “I was just popping by for a visit.” 

Aziraphale hums in response, moving a book that had been misplaced to its original spot. “Well, how wonderful,” he said. Crowley raises an eyebrow. “I was actually about to come and see you myself.” He smiles with a slight incline of his shoulders to convey his excited demeanor. 

“Oh really?” Crowley asked with mock surprise. Ever since the Armageddon that didn't happen had occurred, the demon and angel have taken to visiting one another on a near daily basis. So it wasn't too much of a surprise that Aziraphale was about to visit Crowley, or that Crowley had come to visit Aziraphale. “Never would have guessed.” 

“Isn't the weather lovely today?” Aziraphale asks suddenly, looking back out the window, continuing to smile pleasantly. “Not a cloud in the sky.” 

Crowley looks out the window as well, the back of his head rolling along the books as he does so. “Oh. You're right about that.” 

“Makes me sort of fancy the idea of going for a fly,” Aziraphale continued, and the demon’s head snaps back around. Crowley would have obtained whiplash from how quickly he'd turned his head had he been human. 

“So what's stopping you?” the demon drawled out, his wing tips suddenly ruffling, as though the idea excited him as well. It must have. Aziraphale wasn't sure when the last Crowley had flown, but he had an idea it was around the same amount of time as him. 

“Well,” Aziraphale began, clasping his hands together. “I do rather hate flying alone.” He turns his eyes to Crowley as he says this, hoping that his demon would catch onto the not very hidden hint in his tone of voice. 

He did love to fly, but because he was an angel, he hated to fly without a flock. In Heaven, he and many other angels would flock together, wings beating against the blue skies over the clouded ground. The thought was warm, and his wings ached all over again thinking of flight. 

He'd tried to fly alone in the past, but it never held the same feeling. It was lonely and quiet, rather than surrounded by close friends and allies, the sounds of their wings beating and their voices heard over the winds rushing around him. 

He recalled one time he had flown with Crowley. It had been many centuries ago, and it was to escape a battlefield neither of them wanted to be a part of. It had been quick and for safety measures, but it was still a wonderful experience for Aziraphale nonetheless. It had been the first time he'd flown with someone in years, too, even if it had been a demon. 

Flying with a demon was different than flying with angels, but Aziraphale didn't really care. He did love Crowley, after all. 

Crowley shifts his weight from foot to foot, glancing to the window and then to Aziraphale. He then sighs. “Okay, fine,” he said, and he pushes from the bookshelf, stretching his wings out to the last feather tip. Aziraphale’s breath is nearly taken away when he does so; he hadn't truly seen Crowley’s wings for centuries, and he'd almost forgotten just how beautiful they were. Dark as night and soft as nebula dust. The demon holds a hand out, a small smirk turning his lips upwards. “Care to fly, Angel?” 

Aziraphale smiles in return at the question and takes his demon’s hand. He stretches his own wings out, letting them arch upwards. “I would love to,” he said. 

Crowley leads the way out of the bookshop, his wings opening fully as they exit from the confining building. He hops from the ground, lightly beating his wings to lightly hover as he holds a hand out towards the angel. Aziraphale continues to smile warmly and he takes the offered hand, letting his demon easily lift him from the ground with the strength of his own, dark wings at first. And then Aziraphale begins using his own wings as well, and they're flying together, holding has as they turn in circles. 

The demon, who had originally been an angel, seems to easily know how Aziraphale and the other angels had flown in the past. He leads the way through the air, twisting and turning and weaving. Aziraphale follows his lead, letting out a delighted yelp as they dive towards the ground. Putting his trust and life in his demon’s hands, Aziraphale stills his wings, allowing himself to fall just as Crowley releases his hand. Crowley dives after him a moment later and catches him as he reaches the tops of the city buildings. 

Aziraphale is then lifted back into the air once more by Crowley’s wings alone, before he twirls him outwards- sort of like dancing- to the length of their arms. Aziraphale then let's his wings shoot out once more with a laugh of pure joy. Crowley is grinning as well, and Aziraphale can see the joy reflecting in his serpentine eyes. His glasses had fallen off at some point during their flight, but neither of them seemed to care. 

Aziraphale beings to weave around Crowley, and his demon does so in return. They appear to be dancing midair now, their wings occasionally brushing and both angel and demon grinning to the tips of their ears.

At one point, they even fly all the way up to the clouds, their wing tips brushing through the wisps of white, knocking bits into the air around them. Aziraphale grabs one of the bits and messes it into Crowley’s hair. The demon playfully growls and does the same thing. Their wings straighten out and they begin to fall easily. Aziraphale catches Crook by his hand and lifts him back upwards, stopping his fall. The angel doesn't take the demon’s trust lightly. Crowley had Fallen so many centuries ago, after all. So for him to fall so readily and easily, fully trusting Aziraphale to catch him made the angel’s heart flutter like the feathers on their wings. 

They continue their sort of flying dance for a good hour or so, until finally their wings begin to tire. Aziraphale spots a nearby cliff- they’d really flown far from London- and guides Crowley to the top of it, both angel and demon sprawling out beside one another, their wings splayed freely. 

And at this point, Aziraphale couldn’t help but stare at Crowley’s wings. He’s always loved the demon’s wings; he’d found them to always be quite extraordinarily beautiful. Like a crow’s feathers, or perhaps a raven’s, and just as smooth. He unconsciously is reaching out now, and only realizes that he is doing this when his fingertips brush through the smooth and delicate feathers which are so much better groomed than his own. He quickly draws his hand away when Crowley looks at him, the demon’s eyebrows raised and his own face burning hot from embarrassment. Sure they’d just flown together, but that did not mean he could just go touching the demon’s wings.

“S- sorry about that, dear,” Aziraphale said haltingly, deciding to look down at one of the black feathers which had fallen from the rest. It now rests in the grass which they too lay upon, its edges smooth from the rigorous grooming Crowley must have put it through. The demon has always been a sort of neat freak. “I don’t know what came over me. I just… really admire your wings.”

Crowley stares for a moment at Aziraphale’s face before shifting. He then leans forward, and the angel lets out a small gasp of surprise when the demon’s arms pull him into a hug. Sure Aziraphale had always hugged the demon first, but Crowley hadn’t yet hugged him first before. “I don’t mind, Angel,” Crowley replied, his breath hitting the back of Aziraphale’s neck. And then there is a tender hand rubbing the back of one of his wings. The touch is light, almost not there, yet the feeling of someone rubbing his feathers was soothing. 

He returns Crowley’s hug, placing one of his own hands on his demon’s wings. The feathers are beyond soft, and he can’t stop himself from lightly scratching them. The demon hums in slight satisfaction, and they end up lying down side by side just like that; petting and scratching one another’s wings fondly.

“Your wings are so… beautiful, Angel,” Crowley said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. “I admire them like you admire mine.”

“Yours are beautiful as well, my dear,” Aziraphale said in return, doing his best to ignore the slight blush that the demon’s words had caused to rise in his cheeks. He continues to card his fingers through the black wings, humming as well as Crowley does the same. “They remind me of a wonderfully starry night that I must lay down and view. They are so captivating, and you always keep them so well groomed and in order.” He pauses and smiles slyly. “I must say… I am rather jealous of them.”

Crowley had been silent throughout Aziraphale’s small and short speech, his yellow eyes locked with the angel’s blue. Then, he chuckles at the last couple of words with a shake of his head. He fondly presses their foreheads together. “Well, maybe if you actually cared for your own wings, you wouldn’t have to be so jealous,” he said with a slight drawl, which Aziraphale found quite adorable.

“Oh pish posh,” Aziraphale said dismissively. And he rubs their nose tips together. “Why should I make mine beautiful, when I have yours to look at?”

Really, Crowley is adorable when he blushes, because a deep red spreads across his cheeks. His eyes dart down and up again and he seems to be bursting with joy. “You really know how to make a demon blush, don’t you, Angel?”

Aziraphale chuckles and pulls their foreheads apart, only to press a light kiss there instead. The demon’s blush becomes deeper and redder. “I guess I do, my dear,” he said softly, wistfully.

They stay laying there for the rest of the night, their bodies and wings wrapped comfortably together, like two pieces to a puzzle.


End file.
